


Rewind

by augustskies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Night on the Galactic Railroad AU, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustskies/pseuds/augustskies
Summary: What if they met again, years later, on a different train?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Rewind

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the voice from the stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494424) by [moonseul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonseul/pseuds/moonseul). 



_“ I’d leave the memory of you at the train station, if it didn’t already know the way home. “_

_\- Iain Thomas, The B-Train_

_#_

Even before opening his eyes, he can already see the stars.

Harry is momentarily blinded by the raging inferno on the other side of the window.

The brightness is loud.

It feels something like being submerged in a world buzzing with white noise. He can make out thin rivulets of darkness seeping through the sea of light.

It’s there, barely visible, bleeding from a gaping wound in the fabric of the sky.

He’s never seen anything like it before.

Come to think of it, he wonders if he’s ever truly seen _light_.

It seems like a ridiculous thing to ponder, and yet- he’s suddenly overcome with a sharp wave of uncertainty.

He’s on a train. A moving train.

 _The Hogwarts Express,_ a voice in the back of his consciousness suggests.

He looks around quickly.

_No, this is... a Muggle train._

The seats are upholstered in navy velvet, the windows framed with gleaming silver metal. Everything looks relatively posh- and more importantly, magic-free.

He catches a glimpse of his own reflection in the window pane for the first time.

Wild windswept hair, eyes tinged with red. There are scratches on his face. His nose appears slightly swollen. His lips are bleeding and an unmistakable purple bruise is blossoming on his forehead.

Reflexively, he winces.

The savior of the Wizarding world has certainly seen better days.

In the near distance, a tooting horn signal sounds, and Harry begins to question if he’s somehow stuck in a bizarre dream or hallucination.

The former implies that he must be asleep, and yet his surroundings lack the blurry, dreamlike quality around the edges he’s been able to detect in the past.

He’s fairly certain he’s able to distinguish dream from reality by now- he’s thirty seven, after all, and he’s been practicing ever since he could remember, being no stranger to nightmare plagued sleep.

 _If this isn’t a dream,_ he thinks slowly.

_I must either be hallucinating or forgetting something important._

He tries, and fails, to remember the last thing he’d been doing before he found himself in this strange situation.

It’s then that he notices the person occupying the seat in front of his.

The man has his back to Harry, so he’s only able to see the top of his head, but he swears there’s something familiar about the slope of those shoulders and that black fedora coat.

Frowning, he’s just about to lean forward to tap the man when he’s thrown off balance by an unexpected surge of nausea, sending him crashing non too gently into the back of the mystery man’s seat.

Before he can collect himself, swearing, he looks up to find the stranger staring at him from an awkwardly half turned around position.

The name slips off his tongue before he can think better of it.

“ _Malfoy_ ? “

Not a stranger after all.

The other man looks briefly stunned, and his eyes narrow.

“ You shouldn’t be on this train, “ his former classmate says with an indecipherable expression.

Harry represses the urge to laugh in his face, somehow.

It strikes him as inexplicably funny for some reason, that of all people, it should be Malfoy in this hallucination with him.

“ Of course that’s the first thing you’d say to me, “ he snorts.

There’s a brief pause.

“ I mean, “ Malfoy says, almost uncertainly.

“ Do you even remember how you got onto this train, Potter ? “

He sighs.

“ That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. “

“ Wait... you, too ? Did you find yourself on this train with no recollection of anything before ? “

Malfoy has turned back around in his seat, so his face is unreadable when he answers, sounding faintly irritated.

“ Yes. Don’t sound so happy about it. “

Harry sinks back into his own seat with some measure of relief.

 _At least I’m not alone in this strange experience,_ he thinks. _Even if my companion had to be Malfoy_.

He figures, what the hell.

They haven’t seen each other in years, and they’re both adults now- surely they can manage to at least be civil throughout a train ride.

#

The next time they speak is when the train conductor steps in to inspect their tickets.

“ Tickets, please, lads, “ the man says gruffly. “ It’s been a long day. “

For a moment, Harry can feel panic rising in his chest. He hasn’t found any luggage with him, and he has no recollection of buying any ticket in the first place, either, so-

Some of the panic subsides when he sees his own confusion mirrored in Malfoy’s face for a split second, right before he slips his hands into his coat pockets and something seems to click.

His former schoolmate visibly relaxes as he pulls a green slip of paper out of his coat.

He quickly copies Malfoy’s gesture, and is immensely relieved to find a similar piece of paper in his own jeans pocket.

When the inspector has punched holes into both their tickets and hands them back, he squints at the writing on his.

“ What language is this ? “ he asks dubiously.

It’s foreign- and not one that he even vaguely recognizes.

Malfoy shakes his head.

“ I’ve never seen anything like it before. It must be ancient. “

Harry raises an eyebrow. “ Wait, _you_ ? Admitting there’s something you don’t know about ? “

He only means to tease the other man a little - and yet it comes out sounding a little more accusing than he’d intended.

Immediately, he wishes he could take it back.

He’s really not in the mood for an argument right now.

 _Besides_ , he thinks, albeit grudgingly. _So far he’s actually been polite. Tolerable company, really_.

_And I had to go and open my huge mouth._

“ Stop looking at me like that, “ Malfoy says exasperatedly on cue. “ I’m not going to bite your head off, Potter. Considering our history, I suppose that _was_ a valid jest. “

Now he really gapes.

“ Who are you, “ he deadpans back. “ And what have you done with Draco Malfoy ? “

Malfoy rolls his eyes.

“ Hilarious. I see the Golden boy is just as witty as ever. “

The banter flows smoothly for a few minutes, and once again, inexplicably, he finds himself grinning.

 _Perhaps time has really mellowed us out,_ he thinks.

Their barbs no longer seem to quite have the lethal edge they used to hold back in their schooldays. Neither of them is willing to back down, and yet conversation is surprisingly not unpleasant altogether.

In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost be tempted to admit that he was enjoying spending time with this version of adult Malfoy.

#

“ Don’t you think it’s strange, “ Harry says after a while.

“ How we haven’t really seen any other passengers onboard ? “

Malfoy doesn’t turn around, but he does scoff lightly.

“ There are plenty of strange things about our predicament, I thought we’d established that already. And you’re only noticing this now ? “

“ No, I mean... it’s not just that. All of this, it feels off, somehow. I can’t pinpoint what it is exactly, but it’s bizarre. It’s like... we’re missing an important piece of the puzzle. “

“ Ever so eloquent, Potter. Please do continue to enlighten me with these brilliant observations of yours. “

“ I’m being serious here ! Can’t you just stop being such a git for one second and- “

Malfoy stands up abruptly.

“ Here, “ he says, shoving something into Harry’s lap. He sits down again in the seat across the aisle this time, so they’re facing each other.

“ Go on and open it, then, if you’re so eager for answers. “

“ I- _what_ _?_ Are you telling me you’re not the least bit curious about how we ended up on this train out of nowhere, with our short term memories wiped ? And more importantly, are you seriously not bothered at all ? Where is this train even headed ? It hasn’t stopped once so far and we have no idea what our tickets say ! Also, which- “

He stops to take a deep breath, eyes widening when he takes in the object in his hands properly for the first time.

It’s a brown leather suitcase, slightly battered but still in decent condition. The weight of it is considerable.

“ Is this yours ? “

He’s dubious even as he asks the question.

“ No. I found it on the luggage rack above my seat before you showed up. “

“ And you’re expecting me to just _open it ?_ It could very well belong to someone ! We have no idea what’s in here. “

Malfoy sighs.

“ Look, you’re the one who was asking all those questions we don’t have the answers to. How else are we supposed to find out ? Do you have any ingenious deductions or leads, perhaps ? “

His cheeks are slightly flushed as his voice rises, and it’s only then that Harry notices the bruise on his jawbone.

“ Wait, “ he says slowly, an uneasy feeling spreading in the pit of his stomach.

“ Your face... did you get into a fight or something ? “

Malfoy raises an eyebrow.

“ You’re one to talk. You look terrible as well. “

Only a few minutes ago, he would’ve snarked back instantly, but now all he feels is sinking dread.

“ I don’t know what happened, “ he says, hating the tinge of desperation which creeps into his own voice.

“ Did we get into a fight with each other ? “

Malfoy blinks.

His expression softens a little. “ I don’t know, either, Potter, “ he says, not unkindly.

“ We’ll find out. Maybe you should get yourself cleaned up a bit in the bathroom first. “

Just as he’s saying this, a trickle of dark red suddenly appears on his lips.

Without knowing why, Harry jumps up.

“ Your nose is bleeding, “ he says, his pulse drumming loudly in his ears.

Malfoy lifts a hand to his face in surprise.

“ Oh. “

For a moment, they simply stare at each other in silence.

This time, Malfoy is the one to speak up first.

“ What ? “ he demands, eyes narrowing.

“ Have you never seen a nosebleed before, Potter ? Funny, seeing as how _I_ seem to vividly recall incidents where- “

“ I’m going to the bathroom now, “ he interrupts.

The roaring in his ears is getting more insistent by the second as he dazedly stumbles towards the sliding doors and nearly falls face first into the next train car.

 _Something is wrong,_ he thinks.

The longer he’s on this train, the more sure he is of this.

_Just because you haven’t detected imminent danger in an unknown environment doesn’t mean the potential threat has been eliminated._

_Always, always trust your instinct, or prepare to get killed by your own stupidity and oversight._

_Auror training._

He sucks in a sharp breath.

_That’s it, I remember now..._

It’s a small victory, remembering this piece of his past, but he can’t help feeling marginally relieved, as if some of the weight on his chest had just been lifted.

In the tiny, cramped bathroom stall, he grips the edges of the sink and stares hard at his own reflection.

 _This is good news,_ he tells himself.

 _Even if the information isn’t directly helpful, surely this means I’ll start remembering other things, too._

#

Malfoy’s nosebleed has stopped by the time Harry returns to their compartment.

He still looks pale, and the dark shadows under his eyes are unmistakable, but at least some of the strange feeling in Harry’s chest has dissipated.

He feels refreshed after splashing his own face with cold water in the bathroom stall- determination takes place of the helpless despair he’d felt earlier.

He _will_ get to the bottom of this peculiar situation.

“ Alright, “ he says, with an air of confidence he doesn’t entirely feel yet.

“ Let’s do it. “ Malfoy nods once, and they lean forward in unison as Harry reaches for the handle of the suitcase.

Just for a split second before opening the case, a dozen possibilities flash through the back of his mind.

His heart thuds erratically.

A bomb ? Gruesome body parts dripping in gore ? Letters from an old lover ? Or perhaps, the most ordinary and logical of all- clothes ?

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

It’s a Pensieve.

“ Oh, “ he says.

Malfoy points at the four glass vials tucked in a corner. “ Do you suppose we should- “

 _To hell with it all,_ Harry thinks to himself, grabbing the one closest to him.

The tension in the air is taut as he fumbles with the corkscrew, messily tipping the contents into the bronze basin.

The previously clear liquid begins to glow as soon as it touches the Penseive, taking on an enticing golden hue and swirling around slowly.

Filled just over halfway to the brim, the bottom of the Penseive is no longer visible within mere seconds, appearing to transform into a depthless void.

Harry is somewhat mesmerized by the pattern of light dancing across the surface.

“ On three, “ Malfoy says abruptly, jolting him out of his stupor by extending his hand.

Only after a brief second of staring at the slender, outstretched hand does he realize he’s meant to take it.

Feeling sheepish, he grabs Malfoy’s hand and looks up- to find familiar slate grey eyes locked on his own already.

Their fingers slide around each other and slot into place as they maintain eye contact.

The moment their hands are intertwined, Harry feels a strange sense of deja vu wash over him, and he shudders involuntarily.

 _The missing pieces,_ he thinks to himself. _Finally... another piece is in place_.

Before he has any time to linger on the jarring thought, though, he’s pitching forward once again and falling down, down, down.

Squeezing his eyes shut, the last coherent message his brain helpfully supplies is this- neither of them counted the three seconds aloud, and yet, despite the odds, they are somehow falling in perfect synchrony.

#

_The station is crowded, packed tightly with unruly teenagers and mothers fussing over their children._

_Shouts of excitement rise and fall steadily over the din, anticipation suspended in midair._

_“ Dad ! “ a little boy with auburn curls yells._

_“ I’m going to join the Quidditch team ! I’ll become the star player- I’m gonna beat everyone else and show them ! “_

_His chest puffs out as he boasts, grinning widely from ear to ear while he bounces around his father with barely contained joy._

_The man smiles fondly as he reaches down to ruffle his son’s hair._

_“ Sure thing, Eddie, “ he says, with all the conviction only a parent can have when facing their child._

_“ Tell me all about it when you write home. Don’t forget your letters ! You know your mother would be giving you an earful right now if she were here. And you know she wanted to take a day off work today, but- “_

_The boy waves his hand dismissively._

_“ I know, Dad, “ he says impatiently. “ You both love me very much and you’re going to have a good cry tonight, aren’t you ! You’ll miss me so much- “_

_His father feigns outrage. “ Why, you little rascal ! We will do nothing of the sort ! “_

_The boy laughs, bright and carefree as he squirms out of his father’s grasp and runs toward the brick wall._

_“ See you, Dad ! “ he shouts cheekily,_ waving wildly over his shoulder.

_Draco watches the man run after his son._

_“ What fools, “ Lucius says indifferently._

_“ Making all that commotion for no good reason- no wonder they say our society’s going downhill. Shameless, really. “_

_Narcissa sniffs and wraps Draco in a tight embrace._

_“ You won’t forget what I told you, right, darling ? It’s a new start for everyone- let them know exactly who you are from the beginning. We’ve got good connections. You’ll be well taken care of at Hogwarts. Professor Snape has already promised to look out for you especially. Anyone gives you trouble- you know what to do. “_

_It’s a speech he’s heard so many times by now he can easily recite it backwards in his sleep._

_Draco inclines his head._

_“ Yes, Mother. “_

_His father glances at his watch once._

_“ Well, off you go then. Don’t let us down, Draco. “_

_He repeats the gesture, repeats his assent._

_There’s a strange ache in his chest as he watches his parents get smaller and smaller before being swallowed altogether by the crowd moving away from him._

_He stands motionless in the thick of it all, fists clenched and not knowing why he feels such an acute sense of loss._

_[The scene dissolves into a different one.]_

_He is standing in the doorway of a train compartment, looking down at the mismatched pair in front of him._

_Contempt curls his lips when he notices the hideous hand knitted sweater the ginger is wearing._

_Arthur Weasley, he hears his father saying over the dinner table._

_Freak._

_A disgrace to the noble bloodline._

_Mudblood lover._

_He opens his mouth, and the words come as easily as all those times he’d practiced in front of the mirror._

_Tilt your chin a little._

_Stand straight and look him in the eye- make him feel small with your words, your presence._

_That’s power._

_This world was made for the ones with power._

_He sees the other boy’s jaw drop and his brow furrow._

_He’s scowling, saying something in retort, but it sounds pathetic even to his own ears, clearly- there’s a slight, almost unnoticeable tremor in his voice._

_Almost, but not quite._

_It feels good for a split second- the two morons behind him are grinning, and he can palpably feel their admiration, knows that they would follow him anywhere without a second thought._

_It’s endearing in a dangerous, novel way._

_Until the raven haired boy brings him crashing back down to earth, that is._

_At first, he can hardly believe what he’s hearing._

_Here he is, offering an olive branch, inviting the boy who’s supposed to have lost everything into his circle, and yet-_ it wasn’t supposed to go like this, _he thinks._

_He’d acted this scene out in his head only a thousand times for weeks leading up to this moment._

_Harry Potter, the tragic orphan who lived._

_The savior of the Wizarding world._

_He wasn’t supposed to have eyes that shone like that. Wasn’t supposed to hold his head even higher and challenge him back instead of deferring graciously. Wasn’t supposed to stare at him as if he despised every fiber of his existence, as if he, Draco, were something insignificant and tainted._

_Instinctively, he opens his mouth again to_ _fire off his own dismissal._

_This time, though, the words are stuck in his throat._

_Before he can react, the raven haired boy is standing up and suddenly, all he can see is a green sharper and clearer than anything he’s seen in his life._

_It knocks the breath out of his chest._

_“ You’re nothing, “ he says coldly._

_“ Not even a shadow of your father’s- it’s like you don’t exist at all. “_

_Draco is frozen to the spot._

_His voice has changed- it’s higher, somehow, and tinged with a note of hysteria._

_The words wrap around his chest with a vice like strength and begin to squeeze the air out of his windpipes._

_Harry Potter’s eyes are changing- it starts with a tiny speck of darkness in the center of those green irises._

_And then it spreads._

_It spreads visibly and with unnatural speed, like a fresh drop of blood traveling on white linen._

_The darkness devours the green and seeps out of the other boy’s eyes. Oblivion runs down his cheeks as his face begins to morph as well._

_He grows taller, gaunter, until it’s no longer Harry Potter standing before him but his own father, looming over him with a sneer._

_“ What an embarrassment, “ he says, turning to leave. “ You’ve failed, Draco. There is no place in this world for people who fail. You are no son of mine. “_

_He tries to beg forgiveness, pleads for a second chance, doesn’t notice he’s crying until his vision blurs and he falls to his knees, reaching out blindly and unable to stop his father from walking away._

_The floor opens up into a yawning chasm to swallow him, and he allows himself to fall with relief._

#

They’re back in their compartment, chests heaving and heads spinning.

Malfoy lets out a string of colorful curses.

“ Not a word, “ he bites out.

Harry can’t help but notice that he looks even worse for the wear after their trip through the Penseive.

His nose is bleeding again, and he looks noticeably paler.

“ Right, “ he ventures cautiously.

And then, because he can’t help himself, apparently, he speaks up again.

“ What... was that, exactly ? Was it one of your memories ? “

Malfoy glares at him.

“ You don’t remember ? “

_Another train, in another time._

“ No, of course I do, “ he says hastily.

“ I meant the part after... “

“ I know it didn’t actually happen, “ Malfoy answers, voice muffled as he buries his face in his hands.

“ But it’s one of my memories, yes, and it wasn’t tampered with or anything in case you were thinking somewhere along that line. It was... a dream I used to have. A recurring one. “

Harry frowns.

“ A nightmare, you mean ? “

“ For the love of Merlin ! Yes, alright ? It was a nightmare I couldn’t shake for years- I even took sleeping potions at one point to try to make it stop. Forgive me for not being eager to discuss this subject any further. “

“ Oh. “

He feels uncomfortable- he knows he’s seeing a different side of Malfoy.

He’s just witnessed something personal, something which wasn’t meant for anyone, probably, much less him.

“ I’m sorry, “ he offers hesitantly. “ For pushing. We don’t have to talk about it if you really don’t want to, and... you don’t have to explain anything either. “

There’s a brief pause.

“ Thank you, “ Malfoy says finally, if a bit stiffly.

He _almost_ doesn’t say anything. 

“ You know... “

Malfoy glares at him.

” Just spit it out already, Potter. You’re getting on my nerves, looking at me like that. Are you waiting for me to _apologize ?_ For what I said back then ? “

“ Merlin’s sake, “ he mutters under his breath, briefly wondering why he ever thought this would be a good idea to begin with.

“ That’s not it, “ he says slowly. “ Look, I- “

” I get it, alright? You were trying, in your own messed up way, to... “

Malfoy looks like he’s ready to explode.

” Ask me again. “

He blurts the sentence out without thinking.

The vexation turns to confusion.

” Are you sure you didn’t hit your head on the way out of the Pensieve, Potter? What are you even blabbering on about now? “

Harry bites back the urge to smack his forehead.

“ Ask me if we can be _friends_ again. “

Silence. 

Then, “ That’s what you were trying to say, weren’t you? “

The perplexed look on Malfoy’s face turns into something unreadable.

He almost wants to take it back.

Here they are, two grown adults and one time childhood arch rivals back where they started.

An offer made on a train.

The parallels hurt his head to think about too closely.

Malfoy drops his gaze to the Penseive once more. 

“ Look, this is certainly a strange situation we’re in, Potter. For what it’s worth... thank you. Again. “

A beat.

“ Perhaps we could get a cup of coffee together after this ordeal. “

Harry smiles.

” I’d like that, “ he says. 

Possibly more than it’s logical to want something so simple and mundane.

Malfoy clears his throat.

“ I suppose we’d better move on to the next one, then. “

“ Wait, you still want to see the other three memories ? After that ? “

“ It’s not like we’ve got much of a choice, have we, Potter ? We’re still at square one. We might get some of the answers we need, but only if we finish what we started. Why, getting cold feet yourself ? “

He sighs, choosing not to comment on the overly defensive tone.

“ Fine, “ he relents, reaching for the second vial. “ I suppose you’re right. “

As much as he hates to admit it, Malfoy’s words have struck a nerve. 

He _is_ scared.

These are clearly no ordinary memories, and he can’t help but think that there are far too many places in his own past he’s spent years running from.

The second memory has a turquoise sheen instead of gold like the previous one.

Wordlessly, they join hands, and fall once more.

#

_Darren Criss, Wizarding Times journalist: Mr. Potter ! Allow me to start off by expressing our utmost gratitude to you for consenting to this exclusive interview- Merlin knows we’ve all been dying to hear the answers to som_ e _very pressing questions._

_[Harry stirs his coffee and takes a single sip.]_

_Harry Potter, Age 28: Ah, yes. You’ll get your answers, I promise, although I quite frankly can’t guarantee whether they’ll be satisfactory. Needless to say, however, I’ll only be sharing truths with you today. I think it’s time I cleared a few issues up. Thank you for agreeing to this interview on my terms with such short notice._

_Daren Criss: Truly as humble and polite as they say ! There’s no need for formalities,_ _Mr. Potter- please do speak your mind. Alright, here’s the first question I’m sure everyone’s been itching to know. What is the reason behind your abrupt departure from the Auror department in the Ministry after nearly a decade of outstanding service ?_

 _Harry Potter: Well, I’m afraid the answer to that may be far less exciting than a lot of folks have been guessing. I enjoyed my time as an Auror, I truly did- it’s a both challenging and rewarding job which has taught me many_ _things about myself besides the technical and physical skills more widely recognized, and that, incidentally, happens to be the very same reason I made the decision to resign two years ago._

 _Darren Criss: You absolutely cannot leave us hanging like that! Details, please, Mr. Potter- what exactly did you learn about yourself as_ _you say ?_

 _Harry Potter: After the war, I threw myself into training headfirst. I was first inspired to take on the job by someone very dear to me, someone I’ve long lost but whose impact remains with me to this day. I imagined that I would be perfect for the job, you know ? After all, if I’d fought against Voldemort, didn’t that automatically make me more qualified than anyone else to take on the jo_ b _of protecting people ? I could save lives I hadn’t managed to during the war- I wanted to bury my mistakes and atone for them by doing more good._

_[Harry pauses to look down at his hands.]_

_Harry Potter: Of course, there was also the primitive thrill of it. Danger, that is. I believe the French have a phrase for it, “ l’appel du vide. “ It refers to the inexplicable yearning for self-destruction, and translates roughly to “ the call of the void. “ It’s the feeling we_ get _when we stand at incredible heights- on a rooftop or treacherous cliff, perhaps. The urge to jump, something many experience despite not necessarily being suicidal. There’s no denying the danger of the job was a big part of what drew me to it in the first place as well._

_[Darren nods encouragingly.]_

_Harry Potter: And I must confess... there were times when a part of me secretly wished for a mission which would take me away. Away from the people I loved. Away from m_ y _empty flat._

_[Harry clears his throat.]_

_Darren Criss: Would you like a moment, Mr. Potter ? We can take a short break and come back. I know these topics we’re discussing today aren’t easy. Once again, I appreciate your time and candor more than I can express. I believe this interview means a great deal not just to you, but will reach many people who desperately need to hear your voice right now._

_Harry Potter: Thank you, I’m good to_ _continue, though. I think I have to do this in one go- I’m not sure if I have the strength to repeat this anytime soon._

_[Darren picks up his pen again and leans forward, gesturing for him to continue.]_

_Harry Potter: I was unhappy. I know it sounds like a selfish reason to quit a job which benefits so many, but I’m afraid I have no better explanation. I didn’t sleep well, most of the time. I often went to work running on two or three hours of sleep and pure adrenaline. I’d stay behind at the office after every_ one _else had gone home, too, because paperwork was better than facing all the missing pieces of my life. I barely managed to keep in touch with my oldest friends. I started pushing them away when their concern started to get suffocating. In short, I was effectively ignoring everything which made me feel anything beyond numbness. Obviously, I only made these problems worse in the long run._

 _Darren Criss: I think what you’ve said so far is perfectly understandable. The war took its toll on all of us, though everyone has different ways of reacting to and dealing with loss. No one can rightfully judge the gravity and weight of another’s pain. I must make a confess_ ion _myself... before I met you in person today, Mr. Potter, I’d gotten used to thinking of you as an icon. The head of a revolution. I think I speak for a lot of people when I say that sometimes I forget you are mortal as well, a living man just as complex and perhaps even flawed as the rest of us. I feel I owe you an apology._

_Harry Potter: No, not at all. It means a lot to hear that, Mr. Criss. It’s more than enough for me._

_[Darren smiles warmly.]_

_Darren Criss: I understand. You never asked to be the Chosen One. The boy who saved the world was someone you were born to be,_ _without being given a choice in the matter. Now that you have the opportunity to make different decisions..._

_Harry Potter: Yes. I struggled with doing the “ right thing “ for a long time- I was so absorbed in putting all my energy into fighting darkness, I didn’t realize that it’s okay to give in sometimes. This is something I want to tell everyone listening to this interview right now. Sometimes, you can only save so many people although you want to save the world more than anything. Sometimes, you can only save one person. And it’s okay if that person is you._

_Darren Criss: That’s a quote which is going on the headlines for sure._

_[Harry smiles faintly.]_

_Darren Criss: Alright, I think we’ve covered the first question more than sufficiently. Let’s move on to the next one, shall we ? Here it is._

_Darren Criss: How did your long time relationship with Ginevra Weasley come to an end ?_

_Harry Potter: It was an amicable split and a mutual decision, in all honesty. She’s someone very special to me- still is, and I don’t think I’ve ever truly stopped loving her. I know I would stand by her side in any situation should she ever need me. Not that she’d admit it, mind you, she’s probably one of the mos_ _t stubborn people I know._

_[Harry glances into the distance, a slight smile on his face.]_

_Harry Potter: It’s just that at some point, we realized that we’d both changed, both grown into different people after the war. We didn’t fit as a couple like we used to- but we pretended for long enough because I guess I’m equally stubborn and hard headed when it comes to these things._

_Darren Criss: I see. It does happen, right ? People grow apart naturally. What are your thoughts on her recently established relationship with Ms. Lovegood ?_

_Harry Potter: Luna is another one of my dearest friends, and I support them wholeheartedly. I’m genuinely happy for them- we still get together for tea once every few months to gossip and enjoy Luna’s famous lavender lemon meringue._

_Darren Criss: That sounds heavenly._ _Looks like we’ll have to book an interview with Ms. Lovegood sometime soon so we can ask her for the recipe._

_[Both laugh.]_

_Harry Potter: I’m sure she’d love that._

_Darren Criss: We’re almost done for the day. I think we just have one question left-_

_[Darren jolts in his chair suddenly, face contorting with agony. Harry jumps up in alarm.]_

_Harry Potter: Mr. Criss ? Can you hear me ?_

_[Darren jerks again, head drooping.]_

_Harry Potter: Oh god. I’m going to call for help. I-_

_Darren Criss: You didn’t help me._

_[Darren’s voice is strangled and low.]_

_Harry Potter: Excuse me ?_

_Darren Criss: October 31st, 1981. James and Lily Potter. May 2nd, 1988. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, George Weasley..._

_[Harry has turned deathly white.]_

_Harry Potter: No, no, no. Stop. Stop. Stop saying- Please._

_[Darren’s eyes fly open, red. The mechanical chanting intensifies.]_

_[Harry drops to the floor and covers his ears, tears dripping onto the carpet.]_

_Harry Potter: ...I’m sorry._

#

He can’t seem to get enough air.

He can feel the walls of the train compartment closing in on him, his chest getting tighter with each gasp. His vision blurs, and he’s all too aware of his erratic heartbeat.

 _Maybe this is it,_ a distant part of his brain screams at him.

_Maybe you’re having a heart attack. You’re going to die here on this train headed to nowhere, with Malfoy watching._

“ Hey, “ someone says.

The voice is right by his ear.

“ It’s alright, you’re having a panic attack. Take your time. Deep breaths. Count to seven with me. “

One.

_He’s tripping over the slippers discarded carelessly by the door while trying to balance two coffee mugs and a tray of French toast, cursing. A small black kitten rubs its head against his ankles. Someone laughs in the background._

Two.

_A car ride with the windows rolled down. He’s sitting shotgun as they speed down the empty highway at midnight, whooping like a teenage delinquent and blasting the radio at full volume. Gloved hands grip the steering wheel, steady and smooth, practiced. He knows what those hands feel like._

Three.

_A Christmas party. His friends are all there, getting a little too drunk on eggnog and exchanging embarrassing stories by the crackling fireplace. He feels warm. Later, they put on cheesy Christmas music and start dancing, stepping on toes and stumbling into furniture more often than not. It’s the most fun he’s had in ages. He looks at each and every one of their faces, tries to memorize the way the firelight traces their features. At midnight, he’s lost in a kiss which feels like both the beginning and the end of the world he’s known all his life._

Four.

_He’s never seen so many stars. He devours them greedily, presses his lips to the sky and weeps. They create their own constellations and give them ridiculous names. The grass tickles his back, and the sea salt caramel cone he’d been eating earlier is running down his chin. He doesn’t care. When they kiss again, he thinks, oh. So this is what was written in the sky all along. He thinks, the ocean tastes like something dangerously close to love._

Five.

_He’s happy. He knows he is, but he still can’t help it- he cries sometimes. He cries when they say goodbye to the black cat at the clinic, and someone is there to wrap his shaking shoulders in a firm hug, whispering to him that it’ll be alright, she’ll be out of pain soon. He cries when he holds Hermione and Ron’s baby boy in his arms for the first time at the hospital, and someone is there to tease him for being a sappy middle aged man while resting their head lightly on his shoulder. He cries when he jerks awake at three in the morning, gasping for air and shaking, and someone is there to quietly make him a mug of peppermint tea and rub circles into his back gently._

Six.

_He’s nervous and on edge for nearly a whole month. He goes over the plan with Ron and Hermione again and again, seeking reassurance as he prepares to set everything in motion. Finally, he watches from behind a bush as he sends the paper crane sailing through the open window. Watches as it wobbles in midair for a heartstopping moment before drifting down onto the counter. The crane is unfolded with unbearable tenderness. He falls back into the bush when he sees the tears and the smile which follows. He gets called an idiot and a stupid romantic but the crane gets placed carefully on a shelf next to all their favorite framed photographs. He has never felt this full of light._

Seven.

 _They fight sometimes. They argue about both silly things and serious matters. They raise their voices, lash out with double edged words, and endure loaded silences. He feels like ripping all the hair out of his head on some days. Yet- they never quite give up on each other. They’re both far too stubborn for that, and he thinks this is maybe what he loves most about them. The evenings they spend curled up together on the couch sharing a bowl of microwave popcorn and watching movies is a close second. Or maybe, it’s the mornings they make pancakes together in the kitchen until he gets forcibly kicked out for eating the batter raw or stealing the_ blueberries. _Then again, there are the lazy days when one of them is sick and the other reads out loud until they both fall asleep. There are too many things to love about them that he’s still discovering every day._

“ You’re okay now. “

Harry blinks, electricity coursing through him, and realizes that he is.

He looks up at the person who has been anchoring him all this time, and says, softly, “ Draco. “

#

“ You remembered. “ 

#

“ Of course I did. Why didn’t you say anything earlier, if you never forgot to begin with ? “

_You shouldn’t be on this train._

#

“ I think we should see the last two memories. “

“ Wait... is the train slowing down ? “

“ Let’s hurry. We’re approaching a station soon. “

#

The third memory is red.

Red is danger, blood, and violence, he thinks. It’s lust, love, and passion.

Which one is the lie ?

#

A flash of blinding light.

It feels like something is shattering.

Bones ? Glass ? Walls ?

Or something softer, maybe. Something complicated and messy and- red.

He watches as Draco lies bleeding on the bathroom floor.

The blood never stops, and Snape never shows up to perform the healing spell.

They’re trapped in that moment for eternity, caught somewhere between hatred and something far stronger.

It’s ugly, but the way it leaves him breathless makes him think it’s more than beautiful has ever made him feel.

 _I’m sorry,_ he doesn’t say. Because they are in the midst of a war.

Because they hate each other.

 _I love you_ , he doesn’t say.

Because it hasn’t happened yet, and he has no way of knowing.

What he does know is that he will never forgive himself for this.

#

Both are simultaneously true.

Red cannot be put into a box- it’s slamming your feet down on the breaks a second too late after seeing the stoplights.

#

Harry drops his face into his arms.

“ Why, “ he manages.

“ Why are we doing this, Draco ? “

His arms are gently pried away from his face.

“ One more to go, Potter. “

“ Then we’ll go home ? We’ll figure out a way to get off this train ? “

“ We will. “

Harry believes him.

#

The last memory has no color.

It’s transparent, clear as water.

#

_[The opening jingle of the headlines news.]_

_Breaking news: train derailment results in an estimated 628 casualties. The C2C 115 travelling from London to Newcastle at 1:13 p.m. this afternoon is reported to have gone off the tracks near Doncaster. Police and medics arrived at the scene within minutes, and investigation into the cause of the accident is ongoing. At this time, the number of survivors remains to be identified. We will keep you updated as soon as we receive further information._

#

His phone vibrates with a new message.

_Hermione: Harry, we’ve just seen the news. Please let us know you and Draco are fine- I made that blueberry pecan pie you both liked so much last time, and the kids can’t wait to show their favorite uncles the paintings they made at school last week. Ron’s denying it, of course, but he’s been checking the clock only thirty times in the past hour. We all can’t wait to see you two, really, and I wanted to tell you-_

The message preview is cut off there, and Harry can’t unlock his phone no matter how desperately he swipes the screen.

He looks up at Draco instead, who’s gazing out the window with a faraway expression in his eyes.

“ Look, “ he says suddenly, breathless.

Heart pounding, Harry moves closer.

Outside their window, the sky is lit up with more stars than he’s ever seen all at once in his life.

They fall like tears, interrupting the night over and over again with their unrelenting brightness.

“ A meteor shower, “ he whispers, and the words come out sounding like a prayer.

Draco blinks.

“ Don’t people make wishes on these stars?”

Harry is surprised to hear himself laugh softly.

“ Yes. We should both make one. “

Even as he says this, he can feel a faint melancholia settle over his aching ribcage.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! it’s been a long time since I wrote anything, to be honest, and I definitely wasn’t expecting a one-shot to turn into, well, this. you can blame Kenji Miyazawa’s Night on the Galactic Railroad and sheelia’s DEVASTATING oikage fic. (READ THEM.) I knew I had to write my own spin on this story as soon as I read those masterpieces. I can’t even begin to describe the way they made me feel at three am, but awestruck is probably a good start. that being said, I do hope I was able to deliver a healthy dose of drarry feels to your doorstep (｀・ω・´) 
> 
> please feel free to leave a comment or find me on tumblr @paphns if you ever want to yell at me or talk about anything at all! thank you so much for taking the time to read my work ♡


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